


Prisoner of War

by Kalydon



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BDSM, Dark, Dom/sub, He's a mix of TFA TFP and IDW Soundwaves lol, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not sure I know how to write a healthy one, IDW Soundwave in the TFA universe with a made up backstory, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Imprisonment, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Possible Unhealthy Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Rape, Self-Harm, Size Difference, Size Kink, Soundwave is a little OOC possibly, Soundwave is more IDW Soundwave, TFA AU from the first episode, Torture, it's me so expect bad things with the good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-01 16:10:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15146849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalydon/pseuds/Kalydon
Summary: With Soundwave as Megatron's second-in-command instead of Starscream, the traitorous jet never had a chance to put a bomb on Megatron that resulted in him losing the battle with Optimus Prime for the Allspark. However, the Allspark was somehow missing, and so instead of his prize, the Decepticon leader has five small Autobots with a surprising amount of spirit captive on his ship. One of them had to have stolen and hidden the Allspark, but who?And in the process of discovering what happened to the Allspark, perhaps Megatron will find that there's more to some of those little bots than meets the eye....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't help myself with the summary. XD
> 
> This is my first Transformer fic, and I've only seen the first season of TFA so far. I'd really appreciate any feedback I could get. =)

**ACT I:**

_Prisoners_

 

* * *

 

They had failed.

The one real job, the one real responsibility Optimus had ever had, and he had failed. Even if the Allspark had, evidently, disappeared, he and his team were now being loaded aboard a Decepticon ship, and Optimus was just tied up in his own grapples, stasis cuffs keeping him from doing anything more than simply glare at Megatron, the leader of the Decepticons, as he scowled angrily out the window of the Autobot spaceship.

Optimus’ one consolation in all this was that at least the Decepticons hadn’t gotten ahold of the Allspark either, but he had no idea where it _had_ gone. What of one of his team members- Prowl, maybe- had hidden it somewhere? The Decepticons would find it eventually if it were anywhere on the ship, and then Optimus truly would have failed at everything. Cybertron would fall to the hands of Megatron and the Decepticons, and that would be the end of it. All because Optimus Prime was a failure.

Bumblebee was still fruitlessly struggling against his bonds, and Optimus jerked as the smaller bot kicked one of his servos as he shuffled. “Let… us… out… you… slagging… glitch!” Bumblebee panted.

Megatron turned around slowly, and Optimus was happy for his facemask to conceal his wince at the sight of the great Decepticon Leader. Megatron didn’t react to Bumblebee, however, it seemed he had been turning around for another reason entirely as the door to the ship opened, revealing a group of Decepticons.

One of them leered down at Optimus, and suddenly all the Autobot could think of was all the stories about what Decepticons did to their prisoners before they offlined them.

“Lord Megatron, the great and illustrious leader of the Decepticons, has returned to-”

“Shut up, Lugnut,” Megatron growled, and Optimus ground his dentae. It really wasn’t right that the cause of so much pain and suffering for all Cybertronians should have such a fragging _pleasant_ voice.

“Did you recover the Allspark, Lord Megatron?” That bot was small for a Decepticon- and was that a civilian frame? An Autobot traitor?

“No,” Megatron hissed. “One of these _Autobots_ ,” he spat the word, “appears to have hidden it somewhere on the ship. Take the prisoners to the detention center to be _questioned_ , and tear this ship apart until you find it.”

The smaller bot, the Decepticon symbol blazened proudly on his chest, nodded, tapping at the datapad in his hand. “I will order a scan of the surrounding space as well, in case it was jettisoned.” He turned on his heel. “Starscream, initiate a sweep of the area. Blitzwing, stop ogling the prisoners; Lugnut, stop moping. The two of you escort the prisoners to the detention center.”

There was a quick flurry to obey. The one who had made Optimus nervous, Blitzwing, was suddenly very close to him, picking him and Prowl up and slinging the both of them over his shoulders.

Lugnut, the massive, hulking beast of a Decepticon, grabbed all three of the remaining Autobots, Bumblebee still uselessly protesting, and followed.

“Stay still, kid,” Ratchet said gruffly. “You’re just wasting your energy.”

Optimus wished that he had something, anything, comforting or of use to say to his team. Somehow, apologizing for being a complete and utter failure just didn’t seem like it would be uplifting.

He was still searching for words when the Decepticons dumped them in a large, bare holding cell, all of them together, still locked in stasis cuffs, and now surrounded by metal walls on three sides and a laser grid on the fourth.

Blitzwing’s face spun to reveal an entirely different side, causing the Autobots to recoil, and then he laughed maniacally. “Enjoy your stay!”

The echoing footsteps of the Decepticons departed, and they were left to themselves.

“Anyone hurt?” Optimus forced himself to speak as well as to push himself upright into a sitting position. He realized he still had his grapplers wrapped around him from when Megatron had done that and fought not to show how _wrong_ it felt for a piece of himself to be imprisoning him like that.

He was met by negatives, which was a relief, albeit a small one under their current conditions. The bots all fought to get themselves upright. “Good.” He wanted to ask about the Allspark, but they were undoubtedly being monitored. Instead, he took a deep breath. “Autobots… friends...  it’s been a pleasure serving with you all.”

“It is not over yet,” Prowl said quietly, and Optimus was surprised to find his voice coming from so close. He jumped a second later when he felt the ninja’s hands on his grapplers. “Hold still,” Prowl admonished, and within a few seconds, Optimus was able to retract them.

He blinked, surprised. “Thanks.”

Prowl just shrugged, apparently done with his out of character aid.

Optimus reset his vocalizer nervously and glanced around the room. “No matter what happens, don’t ever forget who you are. We’re Autobots. And we will face whatever they throw at us with dignity and honour. And we will face it together.”

The laser grid vanished, and they all jerked in surprise. It was the smaller, civilian framed bot. He was standing directly outside of the laser grid, tapping away on a datapad still. “Your designations, please,” he said, curt but surprisingly polite.

He was met by a stony and, admittedly, surprised, silence.

The con huffed and looked up at them all with an annoyed look. “Your designations,” he repeated in precisely the same tone.

Optimus figured there was little use in being rebellious over something so small. It wasn’t as though Cybertron would be put in peril from the names of a group of space bridge technicians. “Optimus Prime,” he answered the con. “And _you_ are?”

The Autobot traitor looked amused. “Soundwave. The rest of your group?”

“This is Prowl; yellow one is Bumblebee; medic is Ratchet; and the big one is Bulkhead,” Optimus said wearily.

“Blitzwing,” Soundwave said casually, stepping out of the way to reveal the much larger Decepticon, “remove the medic.”

“No!” Optimus shouted uselessly, straining against his cuffs.

Blitzwing stopped and peered down right in his face, fear making Optimus freeze. “Pretty,” he said in a low tone, long and drawn out.

Optimus barely prevented a terrified squeak.

“Blitzwing,” Soundwave said, sounding bored. “The _medic_.”

Looking annoyed, Blitzwing threw Ratchet over his shoulder and walked out, the laser grid closing behind him as he left the cell.

“Put me down you big sack of bolts!” Ratchet yelled as he was carried away, his voice fading off into the distance.

Soundwave turned to leave.

“What could have possibly inspired you to betray your own kind?” Optimus shouted after him despite expecting nothing in return.

He did not anticipate Soundwave turning to gaze at Optimus with glowing red eyes, cold and emotionless. “They were _not_ my kind,” Soundwave said simply. And then he turned and walked away, gazing at his datapad again.

Optimus straightened from having unconsciously shrunk back under the weight of Soundwave’s icy gaze and reset his vocalizer again despite having nothing to say into the sudden, oppressive silence that was pressing down on the Autobots like a stifling blanket.

There really wasn’t anything _to_ say.

\---

“What do you think they’re doing with Ratchet?” Bumblebee asked quietly. Being forced to stay in one place and then having Ratchet ripped away from them had really dampened the little bot’s spirits.

“I don’t know,” Optimus said quietly. Regardless of the older bot’s foul temper, Ratchet was the only one of them who had actually been _in_ the Great War. He was the only one with any experience among them at all- experience that would be needed. Besides, Optimus missed his friend.

“Perhaps the Decepticons are simply in need of a medic,” Prowl offered, and Optimus looked at him in surprise. He hadn’t really seemed the type to offer platitudes, but, then again, he really didn’t know Prowl that well.

There was silence again until more loud thumping echoed down the hallways of the detention bay. This time it was two Decepticons that the Autobots didn’t recognize. They disabled the laser grid, and one of them picked up Optimus and Prowl, while the other grabbed Bulkhead and Bumblebee, carrying them… in different directions.

“No!” Optimus shouted into the hallway after his disappearing friends. Bumblebee was still calling his name, and he felt like his spark was being mutilated as the voice of the younger, smaller bot faded away into nothing.

Prowl and he were deposited in a much smaller cell, though still built for Decepticon proportions, and their stasis cuffs were actually removed before another laser grid being separating them from freedom.

Well. A laser grid and an entire ship full of Decepticons.

Optimus immediately rushed the grid despite knowing it had to be damaging to his frame and wasn’t surprised at the pain that shot through him at contact with the red beams. He recoiled and then prepared to attempt to attack it again.

“Stop it,” Prowl snapped. “You’re not going to help your friends by going offline yourself.”

Optimus knew he was right, and so, with his frame smoking, he sat down on the cold, metal floor, putting his head in his servos. “Not that I’m going to be any help to my friends anyways,” he said despairingly. “I had one job. One team. One _tiny_ responsibility. And now look at us.”

“The Decepticons do not have the Allspark,” Prowl said simply. “That was the more important duty.”

“And I had nothing to do with it disappearing!” Optimus snapped. “Meanwhile, now my team is going to be offlined or worse.”

“Sitting with your head in your hands dreaming up imaginary scenarios based on old stories that you heard isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Prowl responded. “Either think of something useful or go into stasis to conserve your energon.”

Optimus stared at him, half because of the order and half because of how... helpful it was. It reminded him of his days at the Academy, back when everything was simpler, and before everything had gone so horribly wrong. Back then, he’d actually admired the Decepticons, used to think maybe they had been overly villainized by the government propaganda, that maybe they were reasonable and had a legitimate cause. He used to listen to fragging _Megatron’s speeches_ for Primus’ sake!

Now he wished more than anything that Megatron had remained nothing more than a ghost story and legend on his datapad.

Thudding footsteps made Optimus straighten his back. He wouldn’t let them see him weak. He refused to let them see how helpless he truly was.

Yet, when the glowing red eyes of Megatron himself looked in through the laser grid at them, Optimus felt his spark flutter in primal fear. _Primus, he’s so big! And that fragging canon_ …. Optimus refused to let his thoughts wander to places that that _fragging canon_ wanted to direct them.

“Autobots,” Megatron said in his slagging ridiculous voice, “my Decepticons are currently tearing apart your ship, and my lieutenants have already finished their scan of the area around us where the Allspark could have been jettisoned. You would earn yourself favour here if you simply gave up its whereabouts. We will find it either way.”

“I don’t _know_ where it is!” Optimus insisted, truthfully as well as desperately. “And neither does anyone else on my team!” He had no idea if that one were true or not, figured it had to be a lie. The Allspark couldn’t have just _vanished_ , which meant that one of his team members was, indeed, responsible for it, but he had no idea who, and he’d be damned to to the Pits if he were going to plead for his own innocence in the matter and leave his team to rot for their heroic actions that may have saved all of Cybertron.

Megatron sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Optimus watched dully and in vague surprise as he simply walked away. Wasn’t there supposed to be torture? Possibly forced interfacing? Not that Optimus was in any way complaining. It was just surprisingly anticlimactic for Megatron, the great leader of the Decepticons, to show up, ask a question, get what he believed to be a lie… and then walk away.

 _Misunderstood,_ Optimus’ traitorous mind whispered. _Maybe they aren’t what everyone said they were._

No! He attacked their fragging ship to get the Allspark. He wanted to use it to rule Cybertron. He _said so_! He took Ratchet to Primus knows where.

 _Ratchet…_ That immediately sobered up Optimus’ train of thought. Maybe it just wasn’t their turn yet. Maybe they took the oldest first. Optimus refused to curl up into a ball for whatever sick con was watching the cameras pointed at their cell, but he wanted to.

“Optimus,” Prowl said quietly.

Optimus slowly lifted his head, onlining his optics to look at the other bot. “Yeah?”

There was a short beat and then Prowl shuffled around to get more comfortably seated in the corner. “Get some rest.”

Optimus frowned at him for a moment, sighed, and then offlined his optics and tried, unsuccessfully, to slip into stasis. He shuffled about a few times, making Prowl huff in irritation at him, and then froze at the clicking of footsteps on the metal floor again.

The laser grid folded back and a femme walked inside. A femme… organic? Con? _Both_? And, Primus, she was a spider. Optimus hated spiders. Had always hated them since that day….

The femme abruptly grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the wall. “I heard you were here, Optimus,” she whispered, training a canon on Prowl when he started to move to aid his companion. “I could barely believe it. But you always were a pathetic coward, weren’t you?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it's moving slowly. Or maybe too fast. I write fanfic for my enjoyment, so I have a tendency to rush a bit because I dislike the boring parts, lol. My pacing usually ends up messed up because of it.
> 
> Comments are always amazing! =)

 

Optimus stared blankly for a moment at the femme Decepticon holding him against the cell wall. He stared at her for a long moment until…. Spiders…? No, it couldn’t be! “Elita-1?” he whispered, staring at his old friend- his old _dead_ friend.

She dropped him unceremoniously on the ground, sneering down at him. “It’s Blackarachnia now,” she stated, almost sounding proud of her new designation. But there was something off about her voice.

“But… we- I thought you died!” Optimus exclaimed, stunned.

“I’m sure that’s what you told yourself to ease your conscience,” Elita- Blackarachnia- stated. “You left me _to_ die, and now, all these cycles later, you’ve once gotten between me and salvation.” Her pede shot out and caught Optimus in the chest plates, making him groan.

He was weak from the stasis cuffs and lack of energon. Optimus tried to struggle to his pedes, but then Blackarachnia’s pede planted itself on his back, shoving him down into the floor. “Is this it? Is this all the great Optimus Prime,” she spat his name, “has to offer?”

Optimus tried to stand, to do _something_ , but it was too much. His friend…. He’d left her and now this was what he deserved.

Part of his frame buckled as Blackarachnia forced pressure on weak points in his plating, and Optimus bit back a groan of pain, gritting his dentae.

“Stop,” Prowl snapped. “You’re going to damage him.”

“That’s the general idea,” Blackarachnia hissed, and the canon in her hand started to whir with charge. “Careful or maybe I’ll _damage_ you too.”

“Blackarachnia!”

Everyone froze.

Megatron suddenly walked into view, deactivating the laser grid, eyes flashing dangerously. “Get out,” he growled.

Suddenly nervous, Blackarachina put the canon down and removed her servo from Optimus’ back before quickly fleeing down the hallway.

“My apologies, Autobots,” Megatron said smoothly, voice tinged with amusement. “It seems that in hiding what she saw as her last chance for a cure, you may have incited Blackarachnia’s ire.”

Prowl glared at Megatron and slipped over to help Optimus sit upright.

Honestly, Optimus would have been fine with just lying there in misery for the rest of the night, but he couldn’t very well fight off the aid of his… friend? He didn’t really know what Prowl was, honestly, but he was helping him. Optimus sat up and vented unsteadily. Elita- no, _Blackarachnia_ \- seemed to have pushed one of the edges of his plating right up against one of his pain receptors. He leaned back against the wall mostly in an attempt to prevent Prowl from trying to touch it. He wasn’t keen on the idea of screaming in front of _Megatron_.

Megatron watched them, red eyes glinting with amusement. “So what is the story with her? She’s never been all that interested in sharing.”

Optimus ground his dentae in annoyance. “You’re here to ask about _gossip_ involving your troops? It seems like the great _Lord Megatron_ would have better things to do,” he spat.

Megatron shrugged. “Pressure points are always useful things to know.”

Optimus bared his dentae, but in twisting to glare at the Decepticon leader, he gave Prowl access to his back. He didn’t scream when Prowl ran his servo over the edge of the injury, but he wasn’t any more proud of the whining sound that left his vocalizer.

Prowl immediately snatched his servo back. “He needs medical attention.”

Optimus would have liked to have punched him. As if the _Decepticons_ were going to give them fragging _medical attention_!

Megatron’s eyes briefly narrowed, calculating, and then he shrugged again. “Then tell me a story, _Optimus Prime_.”

Optimus vented in a huff. “I- there were three of us,” he began haltingly. “Friends at the Academy. Sentinel, Elita, and me. We went to an organic planet to find a Decepticon ship that had supposedly crashed there with a bunch of energon, but we were ambushed by large, organic spiders. We found the ship, but we were cornered. Sentinel and I got out, but Elita didn’t. The ship blew up behind us, where she had been. We- _I_ thought she was dead.”

Megatron’s humming engines seemed surprisingly loud in the sudden quiet. “Turn around, Autobot.”

Optimus went rigid. What? What was he- did he think he was lying? Was he going to torture him for information about the Allspark now? Had this all been some kind of ruse?

Megatron huffed, sounding annoyed. “So I can fix your plating, Prime.”

Optimus froze. Wait, _what_? He focused his optics and looked around. At some point, Prowl had moved away. Probably during the story. Optimus couldn’t blame him; he’d abandoned his friend last time he’d been put under pressure. Who was to say he wouldn’t do the same thing again? Prowl would do better to distance himself.

Megatron, meanwhile, still just appeared to be waiting expectantly.

When Optimus made no move to do as he said, Megatron muttered something incoherent and then reached out with his hand the size of Optimus’ entire torso and bodily turned him- with a surprising lack of pain. Megatron wasn’t being _gentle_ , but he did seem to be taking care concerning Optimus’ injury. _Odd_. Some kind of trick?

Optimus nearly did scream when something dug into his plating, curving around the edge of where it was caved inwards, and _pulling_ , and sharp. For a moment, Optimus honestly thought he might fall into an involuntary recharge, and then there was a popping sound and the sharp, intense pain was gone, leaving behind a dull ache that was easily managed. Optimus vented heavily in relief.

Megatron made a humming noise. “When we have a medic free, I’ll see about getting one of them down here to patch you up better.” And then he patted Optimus’ back like… they were comrades or friends.

Optimus scooted away from him like his touch had been acid and hissed a bit as his frame quickly reminded him that he still hadn’t been seen by an actual medic. His fuel reserves were flashing at him as well, and Optimus wondered if they would be given energon at all… when Megatron abruptly shoved two cubes of energon into the room.

_What?_

Optimus stared blankly.

“It’s energon,” Megatron said slowly. “Did Blackarachnia damage your processor?”

Optimus realized he must have voiced his utter confusion out loud and felt his face plates heat in embarrassment. “N-no,” he stuttered and, yeah, that was _very_ convincing.

Megatron quirked an optic ridge. “Are you quite sure, Autobot?”

“I have a name!” Optimus snapped.

Megatron _laughed_ , and, _Primus_ , why was his voice _like that_ ? He adjusted his canon, and Optimus absolutely did _not_ watch and think about other equipment Megatron might have.

Maybe Blackarachnica really did damage his core processor.

“So you do, little Autobot,” Megatron practically purred. “Make sure he doesn’t damage himself worse before I have a medic free,” Megatron ordered, and it took Optimus a long beat to register that he was talking _to_ Prowl, _about_ him. What the _frag_?

Prowl just gazed impassively after Megatron as the warlord closed the laser grid and walked away.

Optimus stared blankly at the two servings of energon. This was… surreal. This _wasn’t_ real. He had gone into stasis from a blow to his processor in the middle of the fight and his spark had provided this alternate reality to the one where he was slowly but surely dying. That made considerably more sense than the idea that _Megatron_ had just saved Optimus from his dead friend turned Decepticon, helped him with his damaged plating, and then _flirted with him_ and expressed… _concern_ about his _well being_!

This definitely was not real.

Prowl pushed the energon cube towards Optimus, and… wait did _he_ look amused too? “Drink something.”

Optimus did. Mostly so that he didn’t do or say anything he would regret.

\---

Optimus was in recharge the next time footsteps echoed down the hallway, and he jerked himself online to see Soundwave standing outside of the laser grid. He glared at him defiantly despite not rising from his seated position against the wall. His frame was still aching. Blackarachnia had a considerable amount of power, it seemed.

Perhaps it was time for the torture.

“Lord Megatron requested that I make certain the,” he paused, and Optimus couldn’t see his face, but he could have sworn he was smirking, “ _little Autobots_ were both still online.”

Optimus knew a quote when he heard it, but before he could spit some kind of retort, his head caught up with his rage and something cold settled in his gut. “ _Both_?” he repeated. “What about our friends?”

Soundwave gazed at him for a moment with cool red eyes. “I was not sent to check on your friends, but they are being well cared for.”

Which could mean any number of things. Optimus almost growled in frustration.

Soundwave regarded him for another brief moment. “The scanning and dismantling of your ship has been completed,” Soundwave remarked. “The Allspark hasn’t been found. It has been proposed that perhaps what you discovered was a high grade decoy meant to fragment in vacuum.”

Wait, what? What did that mean? They weren’t useful- so no torture- but did that mean they would be offlined?

“Why are you here?” It was Prowl who asked the question, and Optimus found that he had nearly forgotten the cyber-ninja.

Soundwave turned his unnerving red gaze on him instead. “Lord Megatron requested someone check up on the injured Autobot. I had no alternative responsibilities at the time.”

None of this made any sense.

“And now that you’ve seen he’s fine?”

Soundwave arched an optic ridge briefly and then glanced down at his datapad for a moment. “Pardon me. It appears something has come up.” And just like that, he walked away.

What the _frag_?

“Megatron appears to have taken an interest in you,” Prowl said as Soundwave’s footsteps faded away.

Optimus resisted the urge to groan. “Taken an interest in me for _what_? They don’t even think the Allspark was real now.” A theory which, the more Optimus thought about it, the more sense it made. Space bridge technicians didn’t stumble upon powerful artifacts. He wondered if Ultra Magnus had known. If he had told them to stay put despite the approaching Decepticon signal because he’d known it was fake. What if they’d been nothing more than a distraction, a diversion?

Optimus felt his spark run cold. He may have deserved such a thing, but… the rest of them… old Ratchet, and sturdy Bulkhead, and little Bumblebee… they deserved _better_. Better than him. Better than this.

“I don’t know,” Prowl said slowly, “but if it can be used to our advantage, perhaps you should do what you can to increase his interest.”

Increase his interest. “I don’t even know what he’s interested _in_!”

Prowl gave Optimus a flat look that left Optimus with heated face plates. “I think we can hazard a guess.”

“And you want me to _encourage him_?” Optimus half-screeched.

“For the sake of all of us surviving this and getting out of here in one piece, yes,” Prowl snapped. “If they truly believe that the Allspark was a decoy, then Megatron’s _interest_ may be the only thing keeping us alive.”

“Why would it need to be _encouraged_ then?” Optimus argued with a hint of desperation. “Wouldn’t he just… _take_ what he wanted?”

“Don’t believe all the stories you hear,” Prowl said sharply, “and stop making assumptions based off of rumour and propaganda. We don’t know anything about them aside from what they’ve shown us, and so far what we’ve been shown is that they are surprisingly humane. Do you see reason to believe something else?”

Optimus floundered for a moment. “No.”

“Stop assuming.”

Optimus had always wondered what Prowl’s story was, and his curiosity certainly wasn’t diminishing, but he felt as though this conversation had definitely answered one question. Optimus had never been sure how long Prowl had been on that abandoned piece of rock or how old he was, but now he definitely sure that the other bot was older than him.

“Alright,” he agreed quietly.

Encourage his attentions. Optimus wondered what Prowl would say if he knew Optimus had never had attention to encourage. There was only one bot who had ever looked at him, and that- well. Optimus still didn’t know why.

 _Can’t even successfully whore yourself_ , Optimus’ mind whispered. _Even to someone you’ve been fantasizing about for most of your life._

Optimus didn’t want to think about that. Listening to old recordings of Megatron’s speeches and finding his form appealing wasn’t the same thing as being attracted to the _mech_ himself. Once, maybe, Megatron had had ideals behind which Optimus could have understood, but now he was threatening all of Cybertron. Optimus didn’t know if he could even begin to feign an interest in such a mech.

 _Except you already have, haven’t you? Only it hasn’t been an_ **_act_ ** _._

Optimus curled up into a smaller form, cursing his weakness. Blackarachnia had been right. He was nothing but a pathetic, useless coward.

There were footsteps, _again_ , and Optimus wondered why the Decepticons seemed to be so entirely incapable of leaving him to his misery.

“Hello there, little Autobots,” a grating voice purred with a significant amount of mischief.

Optimus felt his combat protocols online immediately in response to the tone, and he saw Prowl sit up straighter out of the corner of his optics. “Who are you?” Optimus demanded.

“I am _Starscream_ , the great and powerful Decepticon who will someday rule _all_ Decepticons!” the con said grandly as though he expected them to burst into applause.

Prowl and Optimus exchanged looks. “And this concerns us _why_?” Prowl said blandly, and, really, no one could pull off complete and utter disdainful disinterest in any subject like Prowl.

Starscream growled, trained his lasers on both Autobots, and then disengaged the lattice that blocked one side of their cell. He threw a pair of statis cuffs at them. “Put those on,” he ordered shrilly.

Optimus exchanged looks with Prowl as he tossed him one of the pairs of cuffs, securing his own on his servos. “Where are you taking us?”

Starscream practically giggled. “There are a lot of places that’ll pay good credits for a pair of Autobots in fine condition. Even more if one of them is a _Prime_.”

Optimus had a sick feeling in his spark. Is this what had happened with Ratchet? With Bumblebee and Bulkhead? Were they all just being sold off for spare parts?

Starscream led them through surprisingly deserted quarters until they got to a small, Decepticon scout ship. “Get on!” he snapped.

Having little other choice, the two Autobots obeyed, making their way up the ramp and on board the ship with slow, shuffling movements thanks to the restraints of the stasis cuffs. Starscream wasn’t taking any chances, and Optimus felt their chances of escape plummet to insignificantly small as Starscream put them in individual _cages_ that were too small for them to even stand. Optimus ended up hunched up in a ball, and while Prowl’s smaller frame afforded him a little more room, it still wasn’t much.

So this was it. They would be boxed up and caged like animals and sold off to the highest bidder. Optimus cringed at the very thought of this arrogant, traitorous con trying to shove Bulkhead into one of these cages and wondered morbidly if they would just rip chunks off of him until he would fit.

The ride was uncomfortable but fairly short. Optimus strained his audials and managed to pick up voices coming from the cockpit. One of them was Starscream, but Optimus didn’t recognize the other.

“Hurry it up, Starscream,” the unknown mech was saying, sounding annoyed. “What do you have for me?”

“Two Autobots in perfect condition,” Starscream purred, lying through his teeth. “One of them’s a Prime.”

“A Prime, eh? Still… normally I’d be selling Autobots _to_ you, not buying them _from_ you. What do you expect me to do with them?”

“I expect you to give me my credits and then do whatever you like. They’re pretty. Maybe you can sell them for pleasure bots,” Starscream suggested, and Optimus’ tanks roiled. “Or maybe just melt them down for spare parts. What do I care?”

The mech on the other side- smuggler, maybe?- ex-vented loudly. “Fine. Send one over so I can inspect the goods, and then I’ll transfer the funds.”

“Always a pleasure, Lockdown,” Starscream purred.

The line was cut, and then the two ships locked together, floating in the empty space. Starscream came and picked up Prowl’s entire cage.

Prowl’s optics met his, and Optimus did his best to conceal the despair in his own gaze, to try to protect comfort and reassurance that he didn’t believe.

He was sure he was imagining the flash of compassion in Prowl’s blue optics.

Starscream took Prowl to the mech called Lockdown, and Optimus was left entirely alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Late Independence Day for those in the US! =) That happens to be why there wasn't an update yesterday; there were a lot of people at my house, lol.
> 
> WARNING: attempted Rape/Non-Con in the chapter below. It's pretty short lived, but still there.
> 
> Also, I apologize for when I accidentally use human terms instead of the transformers equivalents or mangle them. I've read enough fics that I do know most of the alternatives, but sometimes they slip my mind or I'm just writing along and I don't catch it. I don't do much editing on my fics, cause I have enough original works to edit as it is, so- sorry for the screw-ups.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's commented! =D

Optimus strained against the cables holding him to a stretcher, the situation only made worse by Prowl lying on one next to him, only Prowl appeared to have been sedated in some way for a reason unknown to Optimus. They had both been sold to Lockdown, a large Decepticon who had gleefully informed them that he was a bounty hunter, and Starscream had taken his credits and scuttled away, leaving the Autobots to their fate.

Considering how Lockdown kept going on about trophies, he didn’t imagine it was going to be a good one.

“A Prime,” Lockdown purred. “Starscream was right. Even if I can’t sell you to Megatron, you’ll still fetch me a decent price.” A large servo gripped Optimus’ grapplers, and Optimus felt sick. “And what a nice trophy this will make.”

He pulled.

Optimus bit back a scream.

His grapplers came loose in Lockdown’s hands, and the Decepticon smirked, clearly pleased with his trophy as he went to put it over on his racks.

Optimus tried not to empty his tanks all over himself as his frame ached in pain. There was something immensely wrong about the idea of a part of him being used by another mech- by a Decepticon, no less.

Lockdown turned back around after putting his grapplers on a shelf and walked over to Optimus again, trailing sharp claws over his frame and scratching the painting. “Starscream wasn’t that far off about you making a decent pleasure bot either,” Lockdown murmured, sounding more clinical than lustful, but it was still enough to make Optimus try fruitlessly to squirm away from him. Lockdown seemed to find that amusing, and he trailed the claw down over Optimus’ interface panel, making the smaller bot lurch away from him and actually manage to scoot a few centimeters.

Lockdown made a clicking sound of irritation. “You’d need a lot of training,” he noted and tapped his interface panel again, with enough force to dent it.

Optimus cringed, offlined his optics, and tried to pretend that this wasn’t happening.

Lockdown’s curved his claws around Optimus’ panel as though to simply rip it off, and he had started to pull when there was a faint dinging sound.

Optimus ex-vented shudderingly and onlined his optics  as Lockdown turned with a scowl and answered the hail.

Megatron’s furious face appeared on the screen… along with Starscream, who appeared to have been hit a few times and who Megatron was holding by the back of his neck. “Lockdown,” the leader of the Decepticons snapped.

“My lord,” Lockdown said immediately, dropping to one knee in surprise.

“This _traitor_ has informed me that he sold you two of _my_ Autobot prisoners. He did so illegally and without my permission. Reverse your ship’s trajectory immediately. The credits you paid him will be returned, and my prisoners will be given back to me,” Megatron ordered.

Lockdown hesitated. “I’ve already made calls to sell the Prime. I can’t be seen as going back on my word.”

Megatron _growled_ . “That was an _order_ , Lockdown. I don’t recall asking if it were _convenient_ . Perhaps next time you’ll be more careful not to do business with _traitors_.”

Lockdown ground his dentae before inclining his head. “My ship has been turned about, Lord Megatron. Is there anything else I can do for you?” he bit out.

“Don’t lay a finger on the prisoners, Lockdown,” Megatron warned. “They aren’t yours to play with, and every bit of their damage will be taken out of the credits to be returned to you.”

Lockdown scowled even more. “Of course, my lord,” he sneered.

The connection terminated, and Lockdown growled, low and rumbling before slamming his servo down on the slab to which Optimus was strapped, making the smaller bot flinch away from him. “You may have gotten off easy this time, Prime,” Lockdown growled, “but eventually Lord Megatron will want to be rid of you as well, and when that day comes, you might not even make it to the buyers. I think I might just keep you for myself.”

Optimus was frozen as Lockdown stormed away and then he shook himself and tried to make himself useful. His frame ached and his processor was still reeling, but it didn’t matter. “Prowl?” he whispered. “Prowl? Are you awake?” _Did he hurt you?_

Prowl stirred slightly with a faint groan. His frame was dented a bit on one side of his head, his paint peeling. It seemed he’d been forced into reboot from a hard blow to his processor. “What happened?” Prowl asked, sounding the least in control Optimus had ever heard him.

“I think Lockdown, the bounty hunter, hit you,” Optimus said, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

Prowl started to nod but thought better of it. “So it seems. Are you alright?”

Optimus almost laughed. That probably wouldn’t say anything good about his sanity, however. “I’m still functional.” Oh, slag, his voice was shaking now.

Prowl was instantly more alert. “We have to get out of this,” he said softly.

“Actually, it seems we already have,” Optimus responded. “Starscream appears to have been working without Megatron’s approval. He just hailed Lockdown and demanded that we be returned.”

“Back out of the melting pit and onto the conveyor belt,” Prowl mused.

Optimus might’ve breathed a laugh if his entire frame hadn’t still been trembling.

Lockdown didn’t come back before the ship docked, and Optimus was grateful for that. The ship stopped moving and only then did the bounty hunter return, clapping stasis cuffs on them both, and then removing the cables and shoving them both towards the door. The exit opened, and Lockdown pushed Optimus forward again, but this time onto a ramp. Off balance, he stumbled forward, tripped over his own pedes, and ended up practically falling right into _Blitzwing_ of all mechs.

Blitzwing’s face turned from red to black, at which point he laughed, and then swiveled around and changed to blue, the one who had called Optimus _pretty_ , and stroked a servo down his body teasingly.  “What a strange little Autobot,” he mused.

Optimus lurched away from him as fast as he could move. Dignity didn’t play into it at all. He just had to get away from these mechs- these mechs who kept _touching_ him- his grapplers were gone and his interface panel sent sharp bursts of pain up his body, and Optimus needed to get _away_.

Blitzwing laughed again, and someone else might have been laughing too. He thought he might’ve heard Prowl’s voice, but then he was face-to-face with Megatron, who was holding him by his shoulders with one massive servo. “ _Prime_ ,” Megatron growled, and the world snapped back into focus as Optimus’ battle protocols onlined from the threat.

Megatron immediately dropped him. “Blitzwing, escort that one,” he gestured at Prowl, “back to his cell. Soundwave, give Lockdown his credits. Minus the detractions for _damages_ ,” Megatron growled pointedly.

Then the leader of the Decepticons picked Optimus up again with one servo and looked him over. Anger flashed in his red optics, making Optimus cringe.

“Lockdown,” Megatron snapped.

The other mech paused in the process of going back on his ship.

“Give me the _rest_ of him,” Megatron hissed.

There was a short beat and then Lockdown disappeared into his ship. He came back with Optimus’ grapplers, which he threw to Megatron.

Megatron caught Optimus’ grapplers in his other servo and then turned and left the docking bay with Optimus still held firmly in his grasp.

Optimus realized faintly that he couldn’t stop shaking.

“You’re very quiet today, little Autobot,” Megatron purred, once they were no longer around Lockdown.

Optimus flinched, reset his vocalizer, and found that he still couldn’t seem to make himself speak.

Megatron stopped being flirty and frowned at him heavily. He abruptly put Optimus down against the wall and leaned over him. This time his eyes flickered very pointedly to Optimus’ interface panel, and Optimus flinched, trying to curl up and hide.

Megatron growled softly, and Optimus flinched again.

 _Stop it,_ Optimus yelled at himself. _Lockdown didn’t even do anything. You’re a pathetic, useless coward, just like Elita said. And you keep failing everyone. Can’t even whore yourself out properly._

“Hey,” Megatron snapped, and Optimus turned to look at him just because of the sheer command in the tone. Megatron’s optics searched his for a moment and then the Decepticon picked him up again, gentler this time. “I’m taking you to a medic.”

Optimus blinked in surprise and finally found his voice. “Prowl-”

“Was not assaulted twice in the past two solar cycles,” Megatron immediately overrode him. “He’ll be fine.”

“Lockdown hit him,” Optimus objected.

Megatron made an annoyed sound. “You have quite the saviour complex, don’t you?”

Optimus stared blankly up at the much larger mech.

Megatron just arched an optic ridge as he looked down at him.

“No?” Optimus tried.

Megatron snorted. “Right. I’m taking you to a medic.”

Optimus huffed and tried to cross his arms. That was an immediate mistake as he felt where his grapplers should have been. He froze slightly and could feel his frame start to tremble again. _Primus_ , why was he so _weak_?

“Prime,” Megatron rumbled, less aggressive than before but still enough to get Optimus’ attention directed back to the warlord. There was a short beat of silence where they just looked at one another. Then Megatron reset his vocalizers. “We’re here.” He walked inside the med bay.

Optimus froze. “ _Ratchet_?”

There the old bot was, apparently put to work for the Decepticons, but not being tortured or mistreated. Apparently Prowl had been correct- the Decepticons had just taken him because they needed a medic.

“Optimus!” Ratchet said in surprise and then glared at Megatron. “What did you do? Get your filthy servos off of him.”

Megatron just rolled his optics as he put Optimus down on the bed and then put his grapplers next to him.

Ratchet looked actually disturbed for a moment. “What happened, kid?”

“There was a bounty hunter named Lockdown,” Optimus began and then hesitated as Ratchet froze up. “Ratchet?”

“I know him,” Ratchet growled. “What’d you do, sell him?”

It took Optimus a moment to realize that Ratchet was demanding that of Megatron himself.

“No,” Megatron said evenly. “He was kidnapped.”

“By another Decepticon,” Ratchet said, disbelieving.

Megatron shrugged. “If I’d sold him, why would I not only have gotten him back, but also brought him to the med bay?”

Ratchet muttered something and then started working on Optimus carefully fixing where his grapplers had been ripped out of his frame and putting them back before moving on to his back plating, which he said could have been a lot worse if somehow hadn’t pulled the edge away from his nerve, making Megatron smirk smugly, and then on to the paint scratches Lockdown had left over Optimus’ frame.

He declared those insignificant and not worth fixing under the circumstances and appeared about ready to let him go.

Optimus’ frame still ached, but he wasn’t going to complain. He started to stand up.

“His interface panel is warped,” Megatron pointed out before he could get off the slab.

Optimus froze, mortified.

Ratchet growled. “You sick, fragging-”

Megatron glared at him and rose from his seated position to his full height, towering over them both. “Do not finish that sentence,” Megatron growled. “Unlike _Autobots_ , we do not _rape_ our prisoners.”

 _Wait,_ **_what_ ** _?!?_

Optimus stared at Megatron.

Ratchet stared at Megatron.

“Get back to work,” Megatron hissed at Ratchet, and then promptly left the medical bay, the door sliding shut behind him.

It was another short beat before Ratchet turned back to Optimus. “Lockdown?”

Optimus nodded, still mortified.

Ratchet sighed faintly and pat Optimus’ leg joint. “It’s gonna be alright, kid. Lie down.”

Optimus did as he was told, feeling violated and vastly uncomfortable with being forced to spread his legs to give his old friend access to such an intimate part of him, no matter the reasoning.

On top of that, it fragging _hurt_ , and he couldn’t keep entirely silent as Ratchet did what he could.

Finally, it was over. Optimus couldn’t look at his friend.

Ratchet patted him on his shoulder but didn’t say anything this time.

Optimus walked over to the door to the med bay; Megatron was waiting right outside.

He immediately picked Optimus up again, and Optimus cringed and folded in on himself a bit when he did. He just wanted this to be over.

Megatron did not take him to the detention center.

Optimus didn’t notice until a door hissed open in front of them, and it clearly wasn’t leading towards a cell. In fact… this looked like someone’s private quarters.

Optimus was put down on the floor as the door closed behind them, and Megatron disappeared into an adjoining room without a word. What the _frag_?

Curious despite himself, the small Autobot poked around the room. It was sparsely furnished, and though it was big for Optimus, for a mech of Decepticon size, it wasn’t all that roomy. There was a large berth set against the back wall, built for a mech of Megatron’s size.

Optimus froze. Were these _Megatron’s_ private quarters? His engines got louder in a sudden onslaught of panic. What was going on?

“Prime,” Megatron said, sounding almost weary as he came out of what Optimus identified as a washroom, “Come here.”

Optimus froze, looking up at him with wide optics.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Megatron rumbled. Optimus wondered at the strangeness of hearing those words come from _Megatron_ of all mechs. And at his idiocy at believing him.

He took a step forward, slowly, towards Megatron.

Megatron sighed faintly. “Optimus,” he said, quieter. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Optimus crossed the distance between them, still wary, and tensed when Megatron’s servo landed on his back, but the giant mech just led him into the washroom, where it seemed… Megaton had run a bath? For… him? In his private quarters. Optimus was beyond confused.

Megatron picked him up easily and set him down in the solvent before climbing in behind him, the liquid sloshing slightly.

Optimus tried not to just melt into it; the warm liquid felt as though it were cleansing Lockdown’s touch from his frame and soothing all of his aches and pains.

Megatron made an approving noise, his engines purring in a surprisingly soothing way. “Good,” Megatron purred.

Optimus had no fragging idea what he was doing right, but, frag it, he was doing _something_ right and after this entire day of weakness and fragging up, he just let himself believe the massive warframe. After all, what possible reason could slagging _Megatron_ have to lie to make him feel better?

Optimus froze when he felt a servo with a wet cloth running over his back only to melt even more as Megatron started washing him, working the cloth into his seams and joints and cleaning out all of the grit and grime. It had been accumulating for a lot longer than just this duration on the Decepticon Warship. Optimus hadn’t had a proper bath since before his Academy days.

An involuntary whine slipped from his vocalizers when Megatron found a particularly stiff joint, and before he could even start to pull away in embarrassment, Megatron purred approvingly again, and Optimus melted even more.

He felt like he was drifting, and not just in the solvent, the weariness of the day catching up with him so hard that his processor wasn’t even rebelling against the idea of him being bathed in Megatron’s private quarters and washed by the warlord himself. Optimus kept making noises, pulled from him by the gentle treatment, but he wasn’t alert enough to hear or register them anymore.

Every approving sound Megatron made, on the other hand, his mind clung to like a lifeline, and Megatron made plenty of them.

Optimus continued to float. His processor came alert for a brief moment when a servo wrapped around his torso and pulled him back, flush against an unfamiliar, stronger frame, but it quickly went back to drifting in a pleasant haze of almost recharging but not quite when the murmur of, “Good Prime,” drifted to his audials, the purring of Megatron’s engines louder now and reverberating through his whole frame in an immensely comforting way.

It felt vaguely like one of his old fantasies come to life, being gently carried and treated like something that actually mattered by _Megatron himself_. This was clearly the strongest evidence that he were simply hallucinating while he died.

Optimus barely registered when he was lifted from the solvent, gently dried, and placed in a berth that was far too big for him. He seemed to recall mumbling something, perhaps “thank you,” before he fell into blissful recharge.

\---

Megatron looked down at his prize, the warmth leaving his eyes and his gaze turning clinical as he made certain that the Prime really was in recharge. He contacted Soundwave over their private comline.

“My lord?” Soundwave greeted cooly, unflappable as ever.

“Transfer half of the promised credits to Lockdown. I specifically told him that he wasn’t to lay a finger on the smaller bot.”

“Understood.” There was a short beat. “If you are otherwise occupied, would you like me to approach him?”

Megatron glanced at the Autobot for a moment. “No. I will do it, as planned. Oh, and, Soundwave?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“See to it that Starscream receives a fitting punishment for his actions. Just because we had planned on them doesn’t make them any less traitorous.”

“As you command, Lord Megatron,” his ever-dutiful second in command responded.

Megatron terminated the connection and smirked coldly. Everything was going according to plan.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I'm going to try to post every other day for now and see how that works.
> 
> Oh, also, explicit porn in this chapter- Megatron/Soundwave. Because I needed to kill time and also fill 2k.

Optimus woke up warm and comfortable on a berth that was way too big for him. He stretched, feeling clean and surprisingly happy, shoving his face back into the soft berth beneath him. He didn’t want to wake up yet.

Someone with a very low, ridiculously attractive voice chuckled.

Optimus sat bolt upright and the events of the past few solar cycles came crashing down on him like an entire fragging moon being dropped on his chassis.

“Relax,” Megatron said, still sounding amused. “I think we can both agree that if I were going to hurt you, I would have done it already.”

Optimus resisted the urge to curl up in a ball and glared at the much bigger mech instead, trying desperately to keep his cooling fans off despite his embarrassment as he recalled the night before. “Very comforting,” Optimus hissed.

Megatron still just seemed very amused. He was in a good mood, Optimus realized. That couldn’t mean anything good. “Get up, little Autobot,” Megatron ordered. “I’m taking you back to your cell.”

His cell. Taking him back to the cell he shared with Prowl, who had also been abducted, after he had spent the night being _bathed by Megatron_ and then sleeping comfortably in his _berth_. Optimus wasn’t going to be able to look at Prowl or any of the rest of his team ever again. He doubted he’d even be willing to correct the cyber-bot when Prowl made the logical conclusion that he and Megatron had interfaced.

“I spoke to your cellmate last night,” Megatron continued. “Told him you were spending the night in the medbay.”

Optimus started. “You what?”

Megatron’s smirked. “I doubted it would go over well if your teammates found out you’d spent the night in my berth, no matter how innocent.”

Optimus couldn’t keep his fans off this time; they whirred to life in the silence. He attempted to ignore them- as well as Megatron’s broadening smirk. “So you lied to my team.”

Megatron rolled his optics. “Feel free to tell them the truth if your _Autobot morality_ insists.”

“It’s not _Autobot_ morality,” Optimus snapped. “Just simple morals.”

Megatron laughed suddenly, and Optimus felt like he were missing a very obvious joke. “Come on, Prime,” Megatron said instead of explaining or arguing. “Hate to keep your friends waiting.”

Optimus slipped off the berth and walked over, trying to ignore how fragging dwarfed he was by Megatron’s much larger frame as he stood next to him.

The door to Megatron’s quarters hissed open and then both Megatron and Optimus paused- as did the bot on the other side of it.

Soundwave- who was only slightly bigger than Optimus- was standing directly on the other side of the door. He didn’t look even remotely surprised to see either of them. “Starscream is being difficult,” Soundwave said with a faint ex-vent that _almost_ sounded weary but was mostly cold and emotionless just like every other time the mech spoke.

Megatron was not so calm. He growled. “You have my permission to do what you like.”

Soundwave tapped at his datapad. “Thank you, my lord.” His optics flickered down to Optimus for a split second and then back to the pad in his hand. He inclined his helm briefly to Megatron and then started walking away.

“Soundwave,” Megatron sounded amused again as he said the other mech’s name. “Stop by later for debriefing.”

Soundwave inclined his helm again. “Yes, my lord.” He turned and walked down the hallway again.

Optimus really disliked Soundwave and not just because he was frustratingly hard to read. There was something fragging disturbing about the other mech.

Megatron still seemed to be in remarkably high spirits; Optimus had absolutely no idea why. “Did you have a nice recharge, Prime?” Megatron asked.

Optimus almost jumped. Megatron was making _small talk_? Optimus honestly didn’t know if Megatron were still flirting with him at this point or if his voice just fragging sounded like that. “Yes,” he mumbled.

Megatron’s crooked smile got even bigger. “Good.” That was a definite purr. “You’re cute when you sleep,” he stated matter of factly.

Optimus felt his face plates heat and stared intently at the floor as they walked side by side, almost like equals instead of a prisoner and his guard.

Megatron laughed lowly. “So shy,” he murmured. “I bet you’re still sealed, aren’t you?”

Optimus squeaked. They might not have been next to any Decepticons at the moment, but the hallway was far from _empty_ . What kind of mech just _talked about that kind of thing_?

Megatron laughed again, louder this time. “That’s a yes then.” He made a thoughtful sound, but as they came upon the detention center, the bigger mech fell blessedly silent.

Optimus doubted he’d ever been so relieved to be faced with a prison cell.

He walked in a bit docilely, ignoring the way that Prowl leapt to his feet at the sight of them both.

Megatron regarded them both for a moment in silence. “Until we meet again, Prime,” he rumbled, inclined his head to Prowl in a weird gesture to make to a prisoner- maybe it was just recognition?- and then walked away, footsteps echoing on the metal hallway.

“Are you alright, Optimus?” Prowl asked carefully once Megatron had departed.

Optimus nodded dully, refusing to look at the cyber-ninja. “Ratchet is in the medbay,” Optimus offered, remembering his own relief at seeing the older bot. “You were right. It seems like they just wanted another medic.”

Prowl nodded, and, to Optimus’ extreme surprise, sat down right next to him so that their limbs were touching. “You had to stay in the medbay overnight; are you certain you’re alright?”

Optimus felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He should tell Prowl the truth about where he was last night… but Prowl would jump to a conclusion that wasn’t right, and, really, what difference did it make? “Ratchet just wanted to keep me out of my cell longer,” Optimus lied. “I’m fine.”

Prowl nodded slowly and fell silent.

Optimus was grateful for the quiet and offlined his optics, wondering how this was all going to end.

\---

There was a quiet knock on the door to Megatron’s quarters, and the Lord of the Decepticons smirked faintly as he opened it to find Soundwave.

Megatron stepped aside in an unspoken invitation for the smaller mech to enter and locked the door behind him.

Soundwave handed over one of his many datapads that he always seemed to have. “Report on the discipline of Starscream as well as the current status’ of all the Autobot prisoners.”

Megatron hummed as he took the datapad before tossing it onto his desk with no more than a cursory glance. “And your personal analysis of the prisoners?”

Soundwave hesitated for a short beat, probably to collect his thoughts. “I see no need to keep the other two around. They are unimportant to our plans.”

“True, but killing them could severely damage the trust I’m building with the Prime.”

Soundwave somehow managed to give Megatron a flat look despite the battle mask covering most of his face. “Your personal amusement is hardly worth the waste of energon.”

Megatron arched an optic ridge, gazing at Soundwave with dangerous red eyes. “And throwing away assets is a strategy unbefitting of tacticians of our league,” Megatron countered. He smirked. “Don’t let personal matters cloud your judgement, Soundwave.”

Soundwave scowled; Megatron could feel it. “I’m hardly known for such behaviour,” he deadpanned.

Megatron laughed and sat down on his berth, spreading himself on it rather lewdly. “I’ve noticed.”

Soundwave just looked at him.

Megatron huffed and sat up a bit. “Was I incorrect in my assessment of why you really arrived outside my quarters this morning?”

Soundwave hesitated for a brief moment, and Megatron felt his normally so carefully managed EM field slowly expand containing so many more emotions than what his second ever showed. “You were not.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Megatron purred, feeling a brief flash of lust that wasn’t his echo through his mind. Soundwave always had liked his voice.

The sound of a battle mask retracting made Megatron’s smirk widen as Soundwave came over and knelt between Megatron’s spread legs.

Megatron gently pet Soundwave’s helm with his servo, mindful of his claws. It wouldn’t do to cause him pain _accidentally_.

Soundwave leaned into the touch slightly, looking up at Megatron with sly eyes that were a constant reminder that he was only on his knees because he _wanted_ to be.

It was a power rush of a different kind that Soundwave would willingly kneel for him than with others who knelt because they had no other choice. Megatron didn’t have a preference, exactly, but he enjoyed both a great deal.

He exerted a gentle pressure on the back of Soundwave’s head, pushing him down towards Megatron’s still closed interface panel, and Soundwave went willingly, always so obedient.

Megatron allowed his cooling fans to kick on as Soundwave licked all around the edge of the panel before running his tongue directly over it. He groaned appreciatively and then slowly opened his panel, allowing his spike to pressurize in front of Soundwave.

It was almost the size of his torso.

Soundwave didn’t hesitate, sliding the spike into his intake, a considerable amount of it, taking their size difference into account, and running his glossa over it. His servos came up to stroke the rest of it in time with the movements of his glossa over the head. Megatron’s engines revved, and he groaned as his charge built up ridiculously quickly. Soundwave knew just how to press all his buttons to bring him to overload.

When he felt the edge of his overload starting to creep up on him, Megatron pulled Soundwave back and off of him, manhandling the smaller mech onto the berth beneath him so that he could hover over him. “Very good,” he purred, enjoying the way that Soundwave shuddered a bit under him. The telepath was always shockingly responsive- maybe because in these moments Megatron allowed him to dip into his mind more than normal. He wondered sometimes what it was like for him- and if that were how he got so much pleasure from pleasing Megatron.

Megatron leaned down to kiss his second in command, supporting himself over the much smaller mech with one servo and letting the other trail down Soundwave’s body. His claws dug under Soundwave’s plating, scratching down sensitive wiring and making the normally so stoic telepath hiss and gasp intermittently under him in a mix of pain and pleasure. When he got to Soundwave’s interface panel, he merely tapped it lightly and the mech immediately opened for him, displaying his dripping valve.

Megatron made an approving sound and immediately slipped one of his digits inside of him. It seemed no matter how often they did this, he was always still so tight. It was a blessing and a curse, as Megatron couldn’t interface with Soundwave without it being a rather long ordeal, considering the amount of prep necessary to allow the smaller mech to take Megatron’s spike without issue.

Still, Megatron had had plenty of quick interfacing back in his time as a gladiator. It lost its appeal quite quickly, as far as he was concerned. This, on the other hand, had yet to have gotten old.

Megatron pushed another digit inside along with his first, curling them just right, and Soundwave involuntarily arched up against against him with a breathy moan.

“Stay still,” Megaton purred, enjoying the amount of effort that it clearly took for the telepath to obey him- but obey him he did.

Megatron could have held him down easily, and perhaps, later, he would offer him that assistance. For now, he knew his second in command could manage it on his own.

He added a third digit, and Soundwave quietly trembled under him.

Deciding that his self control was still far too in place, Megatron sat back on his pedes to free up his other servo, going back to tormenting Soundwave’s internal wiring with his claws.

The mech suddenly clenched down on his fingers with the sudden effort of staying still, and that caused him to let out another, louder moan. “Lord Megatron,” he whispered.

Megatron smirked and hovered over him as much as he could while assuring that he wouldn’t crush him, still working his three digits in and out of Soundwave’s dripping valve. “Yes, Soundwave?” Megatron purred, digging his claw into a particularly sensitive part of Soundwave’s frame and making the mech make a strangled sound.

“ _Please_ , my lord,” Soundwave managed.

Megatron smiled sharply. “Overload for me,” he whispered, biting down on the edge of one of the panels of Soundwave’s armour.

Soundwave did, instantly, and annoyingly quietly.

Megatron didn’t give him even a moment’s pause, and as Soundwave quickly became oversensitive he got a lot more reactive.

Megatron stretched him a little more, pushing the three digits inside of him as far as he could manage, but there was really only so much preparation he could do. He slowly removed his claws and felt Soundwave sag in a hint of relief from the reprieve.

“Beautiful,” Megatron murmured, before lining his spike up and impaling him in one swift thrust.

Soundwave made another strangled sound, squirming a bit before he managed the presence of mind to stop himself. Megatron leaned down over him more, using his own servo to guide Soundwave to grip onto his armour to stabilize the smaller mech.

Soundwave shuddered for several long moments, and Megatron slowly let him adjust.

“Alright?” he checked after Soundwave’s fans settled slightly.

Soundwave nodded, and Megatron immediately took one of his servos and pressed it to the slight bulge pressing up against Soundwave’s plating that was Megatron’s own spike.

Soundwave _whined_.

Megatron grinned sharply and started moving, watching as Soundwave’s optics unfocused. He began with short, shallow thrusts, but as he felt Soundwave’s body acclimate to him, he started moving faster and harder pushing Soundwave towards his second overload as he chased his own.

He kept his free servo pressed against Soundwave’s frame to increase the pressure against his own spike and make sure Soundwave was never _not_ aware of the bulge in his own chassis. His claws curved around to dig into the wiring underneath the plating on Soundwave’s side, making the smaller mech squirm in his inescapable grasp.

Megatron felt his own overload drawing close again, and he leaned down to whisper a command in Soundwave’s audial. “Overload for me,” he rumbled, slightly breathless himself.

Always so obedient, his Soundwave, Megatron thought as the mech locked up beneath him on command in an overload powerful enough that Megatron could feel the echo through their thin telepathic link.

He managed to hold on enough to feel and see Soundwave go limp in his grasp before he finished himself with a roar.

Collapsing on top of Soundwave was a fairly terrible idea, he managed to register, and so he fell on his side, pulling Soundwave against his frame closely as his spike depressurized and retracted, following by the click of his own interface panel closing.

Soundwave was still floating in almost-recharge it seemed, and there was still transfluid leaking from his valve making a bit of a mess on Megatron’s berth.

He’d take care of that later.

Megatron pet Soundwave’s helm again, enjoying the automatic response he had to push up into the contact. The soothing waves of Soudwave’s EM field rolled over Megatron, and the larger mech offlined his optics to ride the secondhand feeling of bliss pouring off of his second in command.

“We don’t do this often enough,” Megatron rumbled, smiling down at Soundwave as he felt his EM field start to stabilize and pull back close to the smaller mech to prevent him from being read by his subordinates.

Soundwave made a sound that was almost a huff but was still slightly too out of it to truly qualify. “Shall I put it down on our schedules?” he deadpanned.

Megatron smirked faintly and trailed his claws lightly down Soundwave’s back just to watch him shiver. “I’m sure that there’s a legitimate reason for me to spend more time in private with my second in command.”

Soundwave raised his helm to look up at Megatron, as if testing his sincerity. “If that is your wish, Lord Megatron.”

Megatron’s cooling fans kicked on without even sending him an alert about it. Rude. “It is,” he confirmed.

Soundwave’s lips twitched up in something that was almost a smile before his battle mask clicked back into place. “And your plans with the Autobots are proceeding as planned?” he asked as he stood.

“They are. Your assessment has been accurate so far,” Megatron confirmed, standing as well to look down at his Second.

Soundwave nodded and then turned to leave.

“Soundwave.”

He paused, turning back to face Megatron momentarily.

Megatron stepped closer and dragged his claws down Soundwave’s back enough to make his breath hitch. Megatron smirked. “You’re dismissed.”

Soundwave stared at him for a short beat before inclining his head and leaving Megatron’s quarters.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up a week late with a short chapter*
> 
> ... okay so let's try a once a week update schedule. I should be able to manage *that*, right? One hopes. 
> 
> Apologies for the length. I don't have enough material right now; I need to get things moving, and then the length should pick up. Or not. Might just have short chapters. /shrug.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Optimus was pretty much used to the sound of Megatron’s footsteps approaching their cell by this point, though the very fact that he had grown used to the presence of  _ Megatron _ was, in itself, mildly disturbing. He and Prowl both looked up almost lazily from where they had been recharging against the cement wall, very close to one another. It wasn’t like there was anything else to do, and being forced to spend days locked up alone with one other person made for very fast and close friends, Optimus had discovered.

Megatron looked amused to see them, but then, the Decepticon Leader seemed to have a very limited number of moods, and amusement was a common one. Optimus wasn’t going to complain; it was far better than some of the available alternatives.

Soundwave trailed after Megatron, and it seemed he had gotten into a scuffle with someone, as his paint was chipped away in several places. Optimus pushed down the instinctive discomfort that always seem to rise within him at the sight of the Autobot traitor.

“We have a problem, Prime,” Megatron announced, making Optimus arch an optic ridge.

“I don’t see how your problems are mine,” Optimus returned.

Megatron smirked coldly, and Optimus suddenly had a bad feeling settle in his chassis. “Oh, this is far more your problem than mine,” Megatron practically purred. “You see, we don’t have the energon to continue to feed Autobot prisoners who have no use to us.”

The sinking feeling Optimus had been experiencing dropped out into a bottomless pit. “You’re going to kill us.” His voice was surprisingly steady for the news they had just received.

“Not necessarily,” Megatron answered. “I said that we don’t have the energon to feed  _ useless _ prisoners.”

“We don’t have any information that you would want, even if we would be willing to tell you, which we’re not,” Optimus responded, uncertain where this was going.

“There are other ways you could be of use,” Megatron said enigmatically, and just as Optimus began to think that maybe Decepticons didn’t count coercion as rape, the Decepticon leader continued, “You’re repair technicians, yes?”

Optimus stared blankly at him. “Yes?”

“Transferring that expertise from working on spacebridges to a spaceship will take some adjusting, but you should catch on fairly quickly. You work for us, under supervision, of course, and then we’ll have a reason to feed you,” Megatron offered.

Optimus stared a bit more. “You’d… let us out of our cells… to work as mechanics on your ship?”

“Yes,” Megatron said like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “You’d get actual quarters, though you would be confined to them when you weren’t working. At least until you proved that you weren’t a flight risk.”

“You want us to help you repair your ship,” Optimus repeated, having a rather hard time processing this, frankly,  _ insane _ proposition. They were  _ enemies _ ! This was absurd.

“Or die,” Megatron offered, apparently growing annoyed with Optimus’ seeming lack of comprehension. His eyes flickered to Prowl, who had so far been silent, per the norm. “I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

Megatron departed; Soundwave remained for just a moment. “This offer is only being extended to the two of you, but if you accept it, we will maintain hope that the others could come around as well. They won’t be killed.”

Optimus glared at him as he also departed. That had to be the thinnest veiled threat Optimus had ever heard.

“We should do it,” Prowl said as soon as the Decepticons were gone, and Optimus turned to stare at him in shock.

“What?”

“We’re no use to anyone dead.”

“We’d be helping the  _ Decepticons _ !”

“With  _ ship repairs _ ,” Prowl responded. “It’s not as though the ship is going to fall apart if we don’t help them. They’re extending a chance to live.”

“And you think we should take it,” Optimus said, still a bit in shock.

“Yes. If we do not, we all die.”

“We’re meant to die rather than betray the Autobot cause.”

Prowl gave Optimus a flat look. “And how devastating our betrayal will be when we keep the ship’s trash compactor mechanisms from rusting,” he said dryly.

Optimus ex-vented in a slight huff and didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Prowl gave him some space. “We can’t do anything in this cell other than die,” he reminded Optimus before going to the other side of the cell.

Optimus off-lined his optics and tried to think. Prowl was right, of course, it was doubtful that the Decepticons would have them work on anything important for fear of sabotage, which meant any betrayal would be minor at best. But it would still be a betrayal. They would be working for the Decepticons.

But if they didn’t do it, then it would be a betrayal of Bumblebee and Bulkhead. They would die from a choice that hadn’t been offered to them. And Ratchet… who knew what they would do with Ratchet?

Ratchet… who was currently working for the Decepticons as a medic- because he didn’t have a choice, because he could do more for his friends and the Autobot cause by being  _ alive _ .

Optimus considered that for a long moment and then on-lined his optics again to look at Prowl. “I’ll take the deal.”

\---

Their new quarters were decently sized, once again, made for warframes rather than civilian ones. The one large berth had been sloppily divided into two- the only sign that anyone had taken into consideration the size of the room’s new occupants. Aside from the berth, there were two chairs, one of which could comfortably seat both Prowl and Optimus, set on opposite sides of a round table, all of which were ridiculously high off the ground for the Autobots. Connected to their living quarters was a “small” washroom with a shower that they had been warned had a limited amount of solvent.

After being dropped off by an overly complimentary Biltzwing- he had commented on the appearances of both Autobots several times, though mostly Optimus’- the two of them simply stood in the middle of the large room.

Prowl was the first one to stir, heading for the washroom, no doubt for a shower, as they were both grimy from the prison cell, though Optimus less so thanks his night spent with Megatron.

The bot quickly stopped thinking about that before his cooling fans kicked on.

“Optimus?” Prowl asked from the doorway, startling Prime out of his thoughts.

He stared blankly at Prowl until he realized the other bot was asking Optimus to shower with him. It made sense, of course, especially considering the limit on the solvent, and it wasn’t as though it would even be a tight fit; the shower had been made for a Decepticon frame- there was plenty of room.

Still, Optimus hesitated.

And then he immediately berated himself for being such a prude and simply nodded to Prowl, going to step into the washroom with him.

As soon as the spray of solvent was activated, Optimus didn’t regret his decision at all. It felt amazing.

Prowl, ever practical, started quietly and efficiently cleaning the grime from his frame, and Optimus followed suit, going as quickly as he could.

His eyes were drawn to Prowl’s frame despite himself while he worked, the cyber-ninja even smaller than he was, and all sleek lines. Optimus could admit that he’d always been attracted to Prowl aesthetically. It was far easier to admit to  _ that _ than it was to admit he also found  _ Megatron _ unbelievably appealing, which he  _ absolutely did not _ .

As Optimus attempted to control the path of his wandering optics, they were drawn to Prowl’s helm, and he saw the dent that had been left from Lockdown’s assault on the smaller bot. His servo reached out to touch before he could even register the movement, and he immediately aborted it.

_ What the frag, Optimus? _ he hissed at himself.

Prowl, of course, noticed, and looked up, tilting his helm quisically. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Optimus responded immediately, cursing the fact that the word came out sounding more like a squeak.

Prowl took a step closer to Optimus, and, really, they were  _ already _ pretty damn close, looking up at him and arching an optic ridge. “Are you certain?”

Optimus reset his vocalizer. “Yes.” At least he wasn’t  _ squeaking _ anymore.

Prowl regarded him for a moment.

Optimus quickly looked for something to say before Prowl started thinking too much- something that would inevitably lead to him figuring things out-, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “Are  _ you _ alright?”

Prowl arched his other optic ridge and tilted his helm a bit more, confused.

_ Slag _ , he was fragging cute like that.

“Your head,” Optimus amended. “It’s dented a little. Does it still hurt?”

Prowl shuttered his optics off and then back on in surprise. “No.” He paused. “But thank you for your concern.”

Optimus inclined his helm and hoped they were done.

“What of you?” Prowl asked quietly. “I’ve seen you rub at your grapplers since Lockdown.”

Optimus froze. Slag it. Half the time,  _ he _ didn’t even realize he was doing that, but, of course, Prowl had noticed. “I’m fine,” Optimus answered quickly.

The solvent spluttered out, and Optimus quickly went to leave.

Prowl laid a servo on his arm, and Optimus froze. “It’s okay to not be fine.”

Optimus stared at him in shock.

Prowl’s glossa twitched into a faint smile, and then he leaned up-

Optimus’ brain shorted out as Prowl pressed a kiss to his own glossa, brief and chaste, but still-  _ Prowl had just fragging kissed him, what the  _ **_frag_ ** _? _

The other bot turned and left the washroom, leaving Optimus standing there, still in the shower, alone, and very,  _ very _ confused.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I just give up on predicting when this thing will update.
> 
> Also, I can't keep my universes straight, so in the Megatron and Optimus argument, I'm pretty sure it takes smatterings of things from all kinds of Transformers verses. Just... roll with it....

Optimus nearly smacked the top of his helm on the underside of the engine on which he was working for the fifth time, sighed, and shuffled around as much as he was able to get into a better position. These were the backup engines, he was being watched by a Decepticon guard, and his work would be inspected before being put anywhere near anything that could let it malfunction and blow up the ship. Still, Optimus couldn’t be entirely disgruntled about the situation. He liked being useful, liked working with his hands, and while he was hidden under the large metal cylinder just tinkering away, he could almost forget for whom he was working.

He could almost forget a lot of things.

His glossa still tingled from where Prowl had kissed him, and he had yet to have gotten any kind of sense out of the other mech about the whole thing. Not that he had tried all that hard. Prowl had seemed content to simply ignore the incident, and Optimus hadn’t gotten up the nerve to bring it up himself.

Wasn’t being trapped on a Decepticon warship and being forced to work for them complicated enough? Why did they have to throw in…  _ this slag _ on top of it? Whatever “this slag” was. People. Relationships. Or maybe he was just immensely overthinking it.

It really didn’t help that every time he thought of Prowl’s glossa against his, inevitably, it led to him thinking about  _ Megatron. _ Optimus would have kicked something if there hadn’t been danger of him electrocuting himself by doing so at the moment.

“Leave us,” a familiar voice suddenly came from outside of the undercarriage, and Optimus briefly froze in shock before immediately extraditing himself just in time to see his normal Decepticon guard walk away- leaving him alone in the room with Blackarachnia.

Optimus quickly got to his pedes, staring at her warily.

“I see you’ve somehow managed to con your way of a cell,” she hissed.

“Elita-” Optimus blurted before he could stop himself. Her optics flashed with rage, but he didn’t let that stop him this time. He figured he was fragged either way at this point. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were alive, but I never should have left you there- Sentinel wouldn’t have if not for me. It was my fault- all of it- and nothing I could ever say or do could make up for that,” he told her sincerely. He had to say it, at least once. He needed to. “I’m so sorry- for everything. And whatever you want to do to me, I won’t fight back. You have the right to justice.”

Blackarachnia stared at him.

Optimus shuffled uncomfortably under the weight of her optics but refused to drop her gaze. Whatever she was looking for, he had nothing to hide from her. Not from her.

“Well. You just know how to fragging ruin everything, don’t you?” she said quietly, to Optimus’ utter confusion. “Sentinel…. If the two of you had come back, you would have died. You saved Sentinel’s life and your own. There’s a time I would have been… happy… that you two had survived.  _ Elita _ would have been happy that the two of you survived.” Her eyes flashed colder. “I am not Elita.”

Optimus nodded. “I… understand.” No, he didn’t. Happy? Sentinel had had the right idea! Optimus had been the one who fragged everything up. Still, he wasn’t going to argue with her, even if she were spouting nonsense.

“You always were too hard on yourself,” Blackarachnia said in what almost seemed like faint amusement.

Before Optimus could even  _ begin _ to try to decipher  _ that _ , Megatron walked around the corner and into the engine room.

Blackarachnia immediately bowed to him slightly. “Forgive me, my lord, I was just… having a conversation with the prisoner.”

Megatron arched an optic ridge, glanced at Optimus, who seemed unharmed if shell-shocked, and then nodded slightly. “You can finish the conversation another time.”

Blackarachnia nodded and then turned and left.

Megatron regarded Optimus with that ever-present amused smirk that was starting to drive Optimus crazy. “Come, Prime.”

Optimus stared after him as he simply turned on his heel and walked out of the engine room before quickly hurrying to follow him. He didn’t imagine there would be pleasant consequences from ignoring a direct command from the leader of the Decepticons. 

As they walked silently down the halls, the cons all saluted or bowed or gave some form of respect to Megatron while glaring openly at Optimus, though they didn’t take it pass glaring. They hadn’t at all, actually, not even when Optimus was just walking around with his one armed guard. It seemed those who were in charge of protecting him were loyal enough to their orders not to allow any of the others to get away with taking their frustrations out on the Autobots prisoners as well as not to do so themselves. Optimus couldn’t help but notice the same few guards on rotation and wondered if there were really so few Megatron trusted- or if he were just reading into things and Megatron didn’t actually give a slag.

“I can hear you overthinking something from here,” Megatron rumbled in quiet amusement.

Optimus startled and shot an annoyed glare up at the much larger mech. “I’m not sure it’s any of your business whether or not I’m overthinking anything.”

Megatron laughed. “I suppose, so long as it doesn’t involve you spiraling downwards into a panic attack and forcing me to carry you.”

Optimus spluttered. “What are you  _ talking _ about?” That hadn’t happened! Not with Megatron, anyways, he tacked on silently with a brief bit of shame. Still, those days were behind him. He was  _ stronger _ now. He had to be.

Megatron rolled his optics. “Well, it hasn’t  _ yet _ , but mostly, I’d imagine, because I interrupt your overthinking of things,” the Decepticon leader said with an extremely fragging irritating self-assuredness about him, as though he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he were right.

He talked like that rather a lot, actually, Optimus had noticed. It was irritating.

And also very hot.

Megatron opened the door to his quarters and ushered Optimus inside.

A cold feeling of dread that was starting to become second nature settled in Optimus’ spark. How had he not even thought to ask  _ why _ Megatron had dragged him away from his new job? Optimus glanced around the berthroom, shifting uncomfortably at the realization that he already knew where everything was from his previous visit, and then turned to face his “host”. “What am I doing here?”

“Because I asked you to come,” Megatron responded simply, like that was the entire extent of the matter. Before Optimus could get more annoyed, however, he continued, “And because I wanted to show you something.”

Optimus blinked and then frowned at him, a part of him suggesting that said “something” might be Megatron’s fragging  _ spike _ and the fact that that thought didn’t fill him with nearly as much revulsion as it should was cause for worry. So were a lot of things though. Like the fact that Optimus was currently staring up at Megatron like a moron while his faceplates heated. Frag, his  _ cooling fans _ were about to kick on! Something had to be done before  _ that _ happened.

Before Optimus had to lower himself to asking what Megatron wanted to show him, however, Megatron made a frustrated sound and then gestured to one of the oversized seats. “Sit down.”

Optimus exhaled softly, not entirely relieved but definitely glad to have something to do and focus on other than his fragging head spinning in circles, and clambered a bit laboriously up into the seat.

Megatron was watching him in open amusement when he finally settled down in the much too big chair and something that looked a bit like lust, which he also wasn’t masking.

Optimus reset his vocalizer.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Decepticon Cause,” Megatron told him, and Optimus felt like his entire processor had just short-circuited.

“You  _ what _ ?”

Megatron arched an optic ridge. “I brought you here to talk to you about the Decepticon Cause. And to show you this.” He made a gesture and a holographic map of  Cybertron sprung into being- but this wasn’t Optimus’ Cybertron. This was  _ Megatron’s _ Cybertron.

Optimus stared in growing horror at the projection.

“This is  _ anarchy _ .”

“This is  _ freedom _ ,” Megatron countered. “No more caste system based off of the way a mech is born. No more government to impose rules and to rise up to stand on the backs of those they have crushed in their rush for power. Those in power will  earn that right by being stronger, by the strength of their own will and the power of their own minds. And, eventually, someone stronger will always come. There will be no more  _ lies _ . No more oppression based off how a mech is born. The powerful will not be upheld as righteous, but as the corruption that they are, and have always been, and always will be.”

Optimus stared at him more. “What- this- you can’t run a society like this!”

“It’s evolution at its finest, Optimus,” Megatron told him, sounding vaguely miffed. “Only the strong will survive.”

“It lacks any and all compassion! It makes us no better than beasts!”

“Compassion is a  _ lie _ ! It is a lie perpetrated by those in power to slowly strip away our freedoms until there is  _ nothing left _ . We think that they’re going to show us  _ compassion _ , but all they do is oppress!”

“You’re  _ insane _ ,” Optimus breathed.

Megatron’s optics flashed with fury, and Optimus flinched away on instinct, wondering if he had just signed his own death sentence. Megatron stood up, but he didn’t move any closer to Optimus.. “I am  _ right _ . And you are just too much of a coward to admit it.”

“Or maybe I’m just not quite damaged enough that I think there’s no one and nothing good left in the entire fragging universe!” Optimus snapped back.

Megatron growled. “You are young and naive, and you would see us all die.”

“I am young, and I would see  _ peace _ !”

Megatron scoffed. “Peace is a dream.”

“It is so long as both sides continue to believe that!”

“The reason we believe it is because it is true! There is no chance for peace so long as the Primes rule Cybertron, no chance for peace so long as we are looked down upon as  _ lesser _ because of the forms  _ they gave us _ !”

Optimus found himself standing up on the chair, the boost making him  _ almost _ of an even height with the Decepticon Leader. “There is no chance for peace as long as you continue to wage war! The war was  _ over _ , Megatron!”

“Only in your mind!” Megatron snarled. “We will not give up; we will not stand down; we will not sit idly by and allow our lives to be destroyed.  _ Not anymore _ .”

“No one is trying to destroy your fragging lives! You’re living in the past!”

“And those who will not  _ learn _ from the past are doomed to repeat it,” Megatron snapped, taking a step closer. “Tell me, little Prime, what  _ do _ they say of me in your histories?”

Optimus’ cooling fans kicked on. He ignored them to glare up at the larger mech. “That you are a madman and a warlord, and I’m starting to believe them. This  _ vision _ that you have of Cybertron is a place I would never wish to live.”

“And the Cybertron that exists now is a place that I  _ have lived _ , and I would take anything in its place,” Megatron growled. “You did not live under the plates; you were not  _ buried _ as those above you declared your lives to be insignificant, meaningless!”

“You haven’t been back on Cybertron in years! Things have  _ changed _ !”

“Have they really?” Megatron hissed, leaning down directly in Optimus’ face. “Or are you just as blind as you always were?”

“Even if you’re right,” Optimus said desperately, “the solution is not…  _ this _ !”

“Then what would you suggest?” Megatron growled. “So long as there are lies, there can never be freedom.”

“ _ What you suggest is no more free _ . It’s just  _ honest slavery _ ! You can’t solve one problem by-”

Optimus was cut off by Megatron’s glossa suddenly pressing against his in the close proximity, and Optimus very abruptly forgot everything that he had been going to say, his servos coming up to wrap around the much larger mech’s chassis as Optimus kissed back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED....


	7. Chapter 7

Optimus’ blissful forgetfulness lasted until Megatron started to press him down into the overlarge chair on which he was standing. And then he remembered who it was he was kissing.

Optimus immediately shoved Megatron away with both servos and all his strength.

Megatron went, but not very far, only pulling back enough to look Optimus in the optics. “Something wrong, little Autobot?” Megatron purred, one of his overly large servos coming up to gently tease at Optimus’ interface panel.

Optimus shivered and forced himself to pull back as much as he was able, which wasn’t much, but every bit helped. “I- this- we can’t do this.”

Megatron looked Optimus up and down. “Might be a tight fit, but I think you can manage.”

Optimus’ faceplates started turning red from the heat rushing to them.. “That’s  _ not _ what I meant.”

“Oh?” Megatron said innocently, stroking Optimus’ panel more firmly. “Then what  _ did _ you mean, little Prime?”

Optimus bit back a whine, though a bit of it still escaped. “I  _ can’t _ , Megatron! You’re- you’re the leader of the Decepticons!”

“And you are my prisoner,” Megatron said coldly, and Optimus felt a shiver of fear run through his spark. However, Megatron pulled back from him. “We could be allies.”

Optimus stared at him. “You-  _ what _ ?!?” He really couldn’t keep up with the Decepticon’s mood changes.

“We could be  _ allies _ , Optimus,” Megatron said, his tone unreadable. “You disagree with my plan- fine. But surely you can see that what is now, cannot be left standing. So think of a better way- and work  _ with us _ to accomplish it. Join the Decepticon Cause, Optimus Prime.”

Optimus stared at him. “You- you’re serious.”

“Of course.”

“I- was this-” Optimus refused to let himself finish that sentence. Of course this attempt at seduction was only for the sake of trying to get him to switch sides. Primus, he must have been so transparent with his desires. He just prayed that Prowl hadn’t noticed them.

_ Prowl _ ….

“No, Megatron,” Optimus said firmly. “Now, if there’s nothing else, may I go back to my  _ job _ ?”

Megatron stared at him for a long moment and then made a frustrated noise, gesturing for the doorway. “Feel free.”

Optimus hesitated. His Decepticon guard had been left behind, which meant if Megatron didn’t accompany him, he’d be headed back on his own- but he couldn’t very well ask for an escort. Frag. This was not going to go well. Optimus ex-vented in a huff and then slid from the chair and left Megatron’s quarters without another word.

The journey back to the backup engine room seemed infinitely longer this time as Optimus hugged the edges of the hallways and tried to keep himself as small, quiet, and out of the way as was possible. Most Decepticons did not seem to notice him. Some sneered but left him be. He was nearly all the way back to his destination when a massive servo landed on his shoulder, spun him around, and slammed him face-first into the wall of the ship with an ease that sunk Optimus’ spark into his pedes.

“Megatron ordered-”

“Megatron’s  _ orders _ are not why I am here,” a voice hissed, and Optimus froze at the familiar voice.

_ Lockdown _ .

“What are you doing here?” Optimus said, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to ignore the phantom pains of Lockdown’s servos ripping into his grapplers and tearing them from his frame, trying to ignore the very  _ real _ feeling of Lockdown’s servos tracing down the inside of his thighs and towards his interface panel that was still slightly warm from his encounter with Megatron.

“To get my  _ money _ from Megatron,” Lockdown hissed. “You see, he decided to short me because I laid a hand on you Autobot scum when I was just supposed to take you both and scare you.”

“What? I thought-”

“Ohhhh, yes,” Lockdown purred directly into Optimus’ audial fin. “You thought it was all Starscream. You thought that he had just somehow managed to transport you from the detention center through a ship full of Decepticons without getting stopped or caught in order to load you up on his personal ship, and you thought he did this entirely without  _ anyone _ noticing. Lord Megatron was well aware of Starscream’s plans from the moment he stepped into the detention center, and he knows very well that we’ve done business on occasion. I would never be so foolish as to go behind his back. I’ve been faithful to Megatron, and now he owes me my money,” Lockdown spat.

Optimus’ processors spun. Megatron had planned for him and Prowl to be sold. But  _ why _ ? “What did he get from it?” Optimus whispered. “What was the point of letting Starscream sell us?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lockdown cackled. “Or are Autobots really so incapable of even imagining and comprehending the deceptions that have been played upon them? He wanted you to  _ trust him _ , to look at him as your  _ savior _ .”

The steadily growing cold in Optimus chassis turned to ice and settled in his spark.

“What, don’t have anything to say to that?” Lockdown hissed. “No matter.” His servo tightened around Optimus’ panel as though to rip it off, just like before. “If Megatron hasn’t taken his prize yet, perhaps I’ll let  _ you _ make up my shorted payment.”

“Let him go.”

Optimus startled.

Lockdown spun.

Soundwave was standing behind them both, unassuming and considerably smaller than the other Decepticon, looking up with his unnerving, blank, black faceplate that sometimes left Optimus wondering if it could even be retracted. Did the Autobot traitor even  _ have _ a face?

Lockdown growled. “You shorted me my payment.”

“Based off of the damages you caused to the merchandise,” Soundwave said evenly. “Now let the Autobot go.”

“I think I’ll take the Autobot in the place of the rest of my credits,” Lockdown countered.

“I will not tell you again,” Soundwave said, voice still entirely level, yet still threatening all the same. “Lord Megatron’s orders are that the Autobots are to be left alone.”

Lockdown growled and dropped Optimus, turning his full attention on Soundwave. “I don’t take my orders from you,” he hissed.

“Optimus, return to your quarters,” Soundwave instructed, ignoring Lockdown. “Now.”

Optimus really didn’t need to be told twice. His quarters weren’t far, and he locked himself inside as soon as he was there. By all rights, if that became a fight, Soundwave should be the one who would be injured or nearly offlined, yet Optimus couldn’t help but think that if either of them were going to end up in the medical bay, it would be Lockdown.

Optimus slipped down to the ground inside of the quarters that he shared with Prowl, trembling.

“Optimus?” Prowl asked, apparently already returned from whatever the Decepticons had him doing since they had agreed to the work. Optimus vaguely wondered why he hadn’t asked what Prowl was doing for them and figured that he should definitely try to fix that. “Optimus, can you look at me?”

The Prime slowly raised his head to fix his optics on Prowl’s, wondering why he sounded so concerned. Oh, right. The shaking might have had something to do with that. “Lockdown,” Optimus whispered.

Prowl froze for a split second and then immediately pulled Optimus into his arms, wrapping around him with his smaller frame. “Are you hurt?”

Optimus shook his head. “N-no. I’m fine.”

Prowl scoffed gently. “I’m sure,” he said dryly. “Can you walk? Just to the berth?”

Optimus nodded but found standing to be slightly more difficult than it should have been. How odd. He had to lean on Prowl in order to catch his balance, and the other bot didn’t go far at all as he brought them both to the berth. Once Optimus was lying down, Prowl stayed by him, a comforting presence of a friend.

Or more than a friend?

“Prowl,” Optimus began, slowly, having a vague feeling that maybe this was a bad idea, but not quite being able to puzzle out why, “why did you kiss me?”

Prowl’s optics shuttered. “I wanted to. Did you wish for me not to have done so?”

“... no.”

“Then what is troubling you?”

“I wanted Megatron to kiss me too.” Well frag. He  _ definitely _ wasn’t supposed to say  _ that _ .

“Did he?” Prowl said, sounding way too unconcerned about that revelation.

“Yes. I told him it was a bad idea.”

“Why?”

Optimus frowned. “He’s the leader of the Decepticons.” Optimus was beginning to think maybe Prowl wasn’t real, and he was just hallucinating this entire conversation.

“And we’re on a Decepticon ship working for the Decepticons,” Prowl retorted. “Fragging one of them can’t be that much worse.”

No, he had to be there. Optimus could feel his frame against his own. “I-” He stopped. “We really fragged up, didn’t we?” he asked softly.

Prowl shuttered his optics at him in vague surprise and then sighed. “Give it some time, Optimus,” Prowl said softly. “I don’t think the situation is as bad as you’re painting it to be.”

Optimus sighed softly, but he could feel himself slipping into recharge and he didn’t have the energy to argue.

\---

Once Prowl was certain Optimus was asleep, he left their shared quarters to head out into the main hallways of the Decepticon Warship. He rounded a corner to find a group of Decepticons crowded around what looked like the aftermath of a battle.

Prowl slipped through the area and then paused. Lockdown was on the ground, surrounded by broken glass, and Soundwave stood across from him, tapping methodically at his datapad as a cleaning crew picked up after the larger mech.

It was impossible to tell when Soundwave first saw Prowl through his faceplate, but it was clear enough to the Autobot when Soundwave walked over to him, scattering the crowds as he did. “What is the status of Optimus Prime?”

“He’s in recharge,” Prowl responded curtly. “I was under the impression Lockdown would not be welcome on the ship after the incident.”

“He was not. I will investigate who allowed him to land, but I have calculated an 86% chance that it was Starscream.”

“I thought you were going to take care of  _ that _ too.”

“Starscream was disciplined and will be again,” Soundwave said evenly.

“Megatron tried to frag Prime,” Prowl stated casually.

“I had calculated a 99.7% chance that he would.”

“What were your odds that Prime would let him?”

“49.4% as of this morning,” Soundwave answered. “Did he?”

“He did not. What are the odds Megatron will try again?”

“I would have to speak to him to be certain, but assuming that Prime’s dismissal did not anger him unduly and was more tied to his duty than an actual rejection of his advances, I would estimate an 88% change of continuing pursuit.”

“He might want to give him some space after this,” Prowl noted rather dryly.

“I will pass along your recommendation,” Soundwave said, and while there was no change in tone, somehow he still managed to convey a wry twist to the words.

“Nice job with Lockdown,” Prowl complimented as he turned to leave.

Soundwave inclined his head wordlessly.


	8. Chapter 8

A few weeks passed. Since the incident with Megatron followed by the run-in with lockdown, Optimus hadn’t seen or heard from either of them. Striking up conversations with some of his guards had been unintentional, but once it had had happened, it hadn’t been something Optimus could or even wanted to take back. He knew he probably shouldn’t have been so surprised that the Decepticons were just mechs like any other, but the day after carrying on a normal, albeit abrupt, conversation with Strike had really hammered the point home.

The Decepticons were just mechs. Mechs on the other side of the war, yes, mechs who were bred for war, who were, in general, less refined and less uptight about a lot of things, but still just mechs all the same. Optimus almost found himself settling in among them, making- not friends, but… friendly acquaintances. Little by little, the Decepticon ship started feeling less and less like a prison and more and more like just another station, just another job like the spacebridge in the middle of nowhere had been- not a place he would have chosen for himself, but the company was almost making it worthwhile.

Optimus was back in the engine room, this time working on one of the primary engines, as the Decepticon’s trust of him seemed to have increased to the point where they let him do more important jobs, though he still had to be monitored during them- with easier jobs they didn’t even bother to send someone to watch him anymore-, when Blackarachnia walked inside and dismissed his guard.

Optimus saw her enter this time and so he straightened slowly, regarding her silently but warily.

She stared at him for a short beat and then ex-vented in a rush. “I don’t blame you.”

Optimus reset his audial fins. Then he reset his optics. “I-” Stopped. Reset his vocalizer. “You… what?”

“I don’t blame you- shut up and let me say this,” she snapped when Optimus started to open his mouth again. “I did blame you. For a long time. I blamed you because I didn’t want to blame Sentinel, and I needed to blame  _ someone _ . But the truth is, Sentinel and I were the ones who wanted to go down into those caves. Sentinel and I were the ones who wanted to go explore the planet. You knew better, and if we’d  _ listened _ to you, none of this would have happened. I-” She stopped dead for a long moment, her optics shuttering, before she sighed. “I am responsible for what happened to me,” she said very quietly, “as much as anyone is. And you are the least to blame. You had no reason to believe I had survived, and you saved Sentinel.”

Blackarachnia sighed again. “I am not Elita. But I wouldn’t mind getting to know you again… Optimus.”

Optimus stared at her blankly and then went ahead and reset everything, considering running a diagnostic on himself.

“You heard me right,” Blackarachnia said, voice tinged with amusement. “Finish up the engines and then come find me. It’s been forever since I’ve had a decent conversation with anyone.”

And with that, she left.

Optimus stared after her, wondering if he had at some point gone offline and none of this had been real since the day he had been taken captive on this ship.

With a deep sigh, Optimus went back to work, letting his mind drift- until it came to a sudden halt at the thought of his friends- Bumblebee and Bulkhead. Guilt was a sharp pain, piercing into his spark. Here he was, making friends with Decepticons, when his  _ real _ friends were still locked up somewhere on the Decepticon Warship.

Hurrying to finish his project, Optimus pulled himself out from under the engine and then headed down the hallways, straight for the detention bay. He got a few strange looks on the way, but no one had bothered him since the incident with Lockdown. He’d heard rumors that Soundwave had made quite the impression on the Decepticon crew, though he hadn’t bothered to ask. Soundwave had been just as scarce as Megatron since that day. As had Prowl, honestly, to such an extent that Optimus was beginning to worry that he had driven his friend away with the almost drunken ramblings that he could barely recall from after he had gotten back to their quarters after the assault.

Optimus shook off those thoughts. He was somewhat surprised to find his trip to the cell that his friends were in entirely unimpeded, and it just made the guilt worse. Apparently, the Decepticons didn’t even care if he went to see his friends, and yet it had taken him this long to do so.

“Optimus!” Bumblebee exclaimed immediately, rushing to the laser grid that separated the two of them. “I’m so happy to see you! Is this a breakout?”

Optimus tried not to wince. “... no,” he answered carefully. “M- the Decepticons offered us an ultimatum. Either we agreed to do some mundane tasks around the ship, or all four of us would be offlined.”

“All  _ four _ of us?” Bumblebee demanded. “There are  _ five _ of us!”

“Ratchet is already assisting them in medbay,” Optimus said wearily. “Prowl and I have been allowed to be isolated to assigned living quarters when we’re not working on the ship-” which wasn’t actually true anymore; at this point, they both had almost free reign- “and Ratchet is the same, though his quarters are adjoining medbay.”

“So you’re free and working for the cons,” Bulkhead rumbled, and it was impossible to miss the betrayal in his voice.

Optimus winced, but he didn’t even have to respond to it.

“They’re not  _ free _ ! They’re confined to quarters. And it was either help the cons with some stupid slag like maintenance or we would all be fragged, Bulkhead,” Bumblebee snapped, grasping the situation surprisingly quickly.

Still, Optimus felt the guilt pressing down on him. “I- if the two of you would be willing to do the same, I think I might be able to get them to offer you the same deal.”

“Are you that buddy-buddy with the Decepticons now?” Bulkhead said, voice a mix of anger and sorrow.

Bumblebee cut Optimus off again before he could respond. “Don’t be so stupid, Bulk! Optimus has a plan. This is just to get us out of the cells. And then we’ll find a way out of here. Right?”

The hope in his eyes was unbearable. 

Optimus forced himself to nod. “Yes. Exactly.”

He didn’t tell them that there was no way out. He didn’t tell them that they were fragged either way. He didn’t tell them that no one was coming for them, that no one cared. He didn’t tell them any of that. How could he?

“See?” Bee said, turning to Bulk.

And then, worse, Bulk looked up at Optimus with that same hope gleaming in his yes. “I- sorry, Optimus,” he rumbled. “I wasn’t thinking straight. If you can get us out of this cell so we can work together better, then we’ll do whatever it takes.”

Optimus forced a smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

As he walked away, down the hall, he couldn’t help but wonder if talking about that aloud had just sealed all of their fates. After all, there wasn’t a mech, bot or con, on that warship who didn’t know that Soundwave heard everything.

“It’s a lie,” Optimus whispered to the ceiling, “and you know it. We’re never getting out of here. Let them have their hope.”

“I never intended to take it from them,” Soundwave said, suddenly directly in front of Optimus, who jumped, his engines making an undignified squealing sound. Soundwave didn’t look up from his datapad, per the norm. “Lord Megatron wishes to speak with you.”

Optimus steeled himself. “Good, because I wish to speak with him.”

It was impossible to tell what Soundwave thought of that, but Optimus would have put money on amused. “Follow me.”

Optimus did, indeed, follow Soundwave through the hallway of the Decepticon ship.

Blackarachnia was in one of the nearby hallways, and she arched an eyebrow at him when she saw him walk by.

Optimus gave her a somewhat helpless shrug, finding it far too easy to fall back into friendly patterns with her. He hoped that she’d understand he’d have to meet her later.

Judging by the wry smirk on her lips, she did, indeed, understand, though Optimus was pretty sure he didn’t want to know why  _ she _ thought he were going to be late.

Soundwave brought Optimus directly to Megatron’s quarters, knocked on the door, and then turned and walked away.

Optimus stared after him, but before he could say a word, the door opened, and Megatron was looking down at him with cool red eyes, for once without a hint of amusement in them, and Optimus reset his vocalizer nervously. “Soundwave… said you wanted to see me?” Optimus tried.

Megatron stepped out of the way.

Optimus tried very hard not to think about the last time he had been in the Decepticon Leader’s private quarters and headed inside. He didn’t sit down this time, instead standing in the middle of the room that was honestly getting too familiar while he shifted on his pedes. Finally, when the silence was getting too much to bear, Optimus turned around to face Megatron, who was reclining against the wall near the door. “Why am I here?”

“Soundwave informed me that you had a run-in with Blackarachnia earlier; I simply wanted to ascertain that you were unharmed,” Megatron said smoothly.

Obviously, he was lying.

“Soundwave couldn’t have told you that, too?” Optimus drawled with more confidence than he felt.

“I wanted to make certain,” Megatron pressed.

“Much like you were concerned with my welfare after Lockdown assaulted me on your ship, I’d imagine,” Optimus snapped despite knowing that he was about to ask a fragging favor of the con in front of him, which meant making him angry was far from a good start.

Megatron just arched an optic ridge. “I was under the impression that Soundwave intervened before anything had happened.”

Optimus snorted, but then quickly stopped himself from continuing down that path with a sigh. “I… have a request.”

Optimus had the pleasure of seeing Megatron truly taken off guard. “Oh?”

It didn’t last very long though, because Optimus still had to  _ ask _ . “I- the offer that you made to myself and Prowl, the word-release condition… could it be made available to Bulkhead and Bumblebee?”

“Those are the other Autobots still in the detention bay?” Megatron checked.

Optimus nodded.

Megatron made a thoughtful sound. “And they would be willing?”

“I believe so.”

Megatron hummed again and took a few steps closer to Optimus, curling his large servo over the top of one of the chairs in his quarters. “And they are also mechanics?”

Optimus nodded again, not trusting his voice to work all of a sudden.

Megatron took another step closer.

Optimus was plagued by sudden, unwelcome thoughts about how it felt to kiss the larger mech.

“I’d have to think about it,” Megatron purred, his breath washing right over Optimus’ face with how close he suddenly was.

Half of Optimus wanted to close the distance between them and the other half wanted to run away, and so he stayed where he was, frozen. It took him a solid few minutes to realize that Megatron had given him a response of sorts. “Th-thank you,” he managed

Megatron smirked broadly, and then one of his servos was curving around Optimus’ back, pulling him closer- and how was he so close- frag, he was crouched down now to put them on the same level, when had  _ that _ happened? Optimus felt like his processor was short circuiting as Megatron kissed him again, light and feathery-

-and then immediately stopped.

Optimus’ cooling fans seemed incredibly loud in the sudden silence.

Megatron pulled back, amused. “You can leave.”

Optimus stared at Megatron blankly. Then he looked at the door. Then he looked back at Megatron, who seemed a bit curious now.

As if coming surfacing from underwater, Optimus remembered bits of a conversation:

_ “I wanted Megatron to kiss me too.” _

_ “Did he?” _

_ “Yes. I told him it was a bad idea.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “He’s the leader of the Decepticons.” _

_ “And we’re on a Decepticon ship working for the Decepticons. Fragging one of them can’t be that much worse.” _

_ “You always were too hard on yourself,” _ Blackarachnia’s voice whispered from an entirely different conversation.

Fragging one of them can’t be that much worse.

Optimus wasn’t entirely sure who had said that, or if it were just something his own processor had come up with to alleviate the guilt, but, frag it, he was going to die on this ship anyways. No one was coming for him. They were never escaping. He was already working for the enemy- really, how much worse could fragging the enemy really be?

Something about the way Megatron was looking at him said it would probably be infinitely  _ better _ .

Optimus reset his vocalizer and took a deep breath. “What if I don’t want to?”

Megatron grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at my tumblr to scream at me about anything! https://chaotictrickster.tumblr.com/


End file.
